Pistol and the Saint
by ElvenBookwyrm
Summary: Pistol and Saint are two of the most dangerous mercenearies in the 'Verse. It ain't a good idea to go lookin' for 'em.


"Pistol and Saint are two of the most dangerous mercenaries in the 'verse. It ain't the wisest course of action to go lookin' for 'em," the woman in red said as she eyed the young man.

"That's for sure," the man with suspenders said. "No tellin' whether they're hired against you, if'n you can find them at all." He looked at the young man consideringly. "How much do you know about those two, anyhow?"

"Not much. Only that they're the best, and that they tend to travel in Fireflies. I know your ship is a Firefly, so I thought..." He looked uncertain for a moment, and then finished in a rush. "I thought you could help me find them."

The big man and the young woman who were sitting farthest away from the wall shared a look, and then she moved over to sit in the bench beside him. "Settle down a while," he said, gesturing towards where she'd been sitting. "We'll spin ya a yarn or two."

"If you can't help me, then just say so."

"We didn't say we couldn't help you. Didn't say we could, neither. We just said we'd tell you about 'em."

"If you're planning an undertaking like hiring the Pistol and the Saint, or anyone in their line of work," the clean-cut man said, "you'd better know what you're getting into." Anyone could see the experience in his expression as he said those words and the sympathy of the pregnant woman as she took his hand. The young man sat down.

"There ain't a lot folk know for sure. The Pistol is the woman, the Saint is the man, and they ain't romantically involved. With anybody. That's the extent of it. Can't even say for sure where they came from: heaven, hell, Shadow, heck, maybe even Sihnon." The big man took a drink of his (presumably alcoholic) beverage before continuing. "Pistol and Saint came on the scene together without any warning. Nobody's sure why, but it weren't that long after the Miranda broadcast."

"I heard about that. It was a hoax-"

"It most certainly wasn't," the beautiful woman in gold said. "I know the man who sent it." The man in suspenders gave a brief, proud smile. Apparently, he knew this man, too.

"At any rate, your conspiracy theorists will tell you they're connected, the broadcast and their appearance. How they're connected varies."

"My favourite one says he was a reaver that she tamed," the clean-cut man said, although his smirk said was teasing.

"Yeah, well, I heard tell it was the other way round," said the big man. The young woman elbowed him lightly in the side and grinned.

"Heterosexual man-crush," she singsonged. The young man watched their interaction and decided the big man and the young woman must be siblings, although there was no family resemblance.

"Regardless, nobody knows for sure, or if they do, they ain't talkin'," the man in suspenders said. "Everybody either loves 'em or fears 'em too much, dependin' on what they did to or for 'em. Even the Feds can't get folks to talk; they ain't even got a good enough description of 'em to put out on the Cortex."

"It ain't like any bounty hunters would be good enough to catch 'em anyway," said the big man, valiantly ignoring his sister as she stole food off of his plate. "Everybody knows that."

"But we're forgetting the point, here," the clean cut man said. "We were going to tell him why he should, or should not, hire the Pistol and the Saint."

"Well it all depends on what he wants 'em for, don't it?" the pregnant woman said. "They usually say yes to rescues, no to kidnappin', but beyond that, they go by your reasons."

The young man furrowed his brow, thus proving he was Core bred, or at least upper-class-Border. Anyone who wasn't would have just scrunched up their forehead. "That doesn't make sense," he said. "Wouldn't people just lie to get them to-"

"Wouldn't work," the woman in red said. "One of 'em's a Reader. Ain't nobody in the verse can lie to a Reader 'cept a more powerful Reader, and from what I hear tell this one is at the top of the food chain."

"Have I ever lied to you?" the young woman said. The woman in red shrugged. "I'm a Reader," she told the young man. "I could tell."

"You said they usually say yes to rescues. Is there any reason they'd say no?"

"Well I can only think of two," the man in suspenders said. "One is if they'd said yes to a kidnapping and the demands hadn't been met yet. The other is if they already rescued the person in question and they've been looking for the right time to bring them home. Why? You got a rescue needs doing?"

The young man's eyes flickered between the group and the barman. "I... I'm not..."

"Oh, don't worry," said the woman in red with a bleak smile. "Ted is as deaf as a doornail - operating the big guns in Serenity Valley tended to do that to a person." The young man suddenly noticed how very brown her coat was. "Ain't a group of regulars here without at least one Serenity veteran, from one side or the other. We watch each other's backs, and there's not a one of us trusts the Feds with our secrets anymore. You can tell us the truth, plain and simple."

The young man looked nervous - with good reason, as he had just learned that he was surrounded with veterans of the bloodiest battle in the Unification War - but he spoke with a steady voice. "My brother was enrolled at a government sponsored academy for the highly gifted. He was meant to graduate this year. When I went to congratulate him, I was informed that he - and most of the student body - had been taken from the academy by some rogue faction or another. I didn't know what to do."

He seemed to have more to say, but the young woman interrupted him. "What's your name?"

"James," he said. "James Smithson."

"Your brother's name is Thomas?"

"Why, yes!"

"You're in luck, then," the man in suspenders said. "Pistol and Saint sent us to find you. Hey, Jim! Mind calling off the poker game?"

As they watched the brothers' tearful reunion, the big man turned to the young woman. "Makes ya feel good, don't it?"

She nodded. "He thought you were my brother."

He snorted. "Where are we off to next?"

"Patricia's ready to go home. She's from Juno."

"Juno? Where the Hellfire club is?" His grin grew lewd. "Ohh, you'd better be tellin' the truth, Pistol."

"I always do, Saint. I always do."


End file.
